Bring Him Home
by Pachamama9
Summary: Seven-year-old Rose Weasley encounters Scorpius Malfoy at the playground. But he's always hungry and dirty and coughing. And she never sees his parents. Probably a one-shot.


_A/N: In this fic, seven-year-old Rose meets Scorpius, but he's always hungry and dirty. She never sees his parents around. As she learns more about him, she learns his life is not as ordinary as she thinks it is._

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Magical & Mundane Literature: Genres (Task 7) - Write about someone who is neglected by their parents._

 _Word count = 4778 (I know it's waayyyy over the word limit, but I just started going and couldn't stop. This fic has become my pride and joy, and it would hurt me to delete any of it.)_

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

"Go on, sweetheart!" said Rose's mummy. "Go play with the other kids. Daddy and I are going to be right here if you need anything."

Rose ran over to the playground, and Hugo followed her. She was seven while Hugo was only five, but they still tended to play together unless Hugo found a different playmate. Today, they were playing a game where Rose had to hop around the playground equipment without touching the ground and Hugo had to close his eyes and find her. As Rose lingered close to Hugo, shouting his name, Hugo burst into a bout of giggles. "I got you, I got you!" His little fist touched Rose's leg, but instead of laughing with him, Rose was busy watching another situation unfold on the playground.

An older kid, probably nine or so, had pushed a little boy off of his swing so that she could have it. She was currently pushing the boy down into the dirt. Rose told Hugo, "Stay here," and then bolted towards the two. "Hey!" she cried, and suddenly, she was in between the two, glowering at the older girl. "He had it first! Back off!"

Although Rose was only seven years old, two years younger than the other girl, the bully clearly thought that one swing wasn't worth the trouble of a fight, and walked away, grumbling under her breath.

Rose turned to the little boy. "Are you okay?" she asked him, helping him up. He looked like he was a little younger than her, because he was significantly smaller than her, with a mess of tangled, blonde hair and blue eyes the color of glaciers. His face was dirty, as were his clothes, and he was obscenely thin.

The boy was a little wary of her, but he eventually answered her. "I'm okay now," he said. "Thanks...for helping me."

Rose smiled. "No problem! Er, I'm playing with my brother right now… Do you want to play, too?"

The boy gave her a toothy grin; he had one missing in the front. "Really?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah, we need more people to play anyway." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Rose. What's your name?"

The boy looked scared, almost ashamed to tell her. "Scor," he told her, shuffling awkwardly. The shirt he wore was clearly too big for him; it almost touched his knees.

Rose smiled. "Nice to meet you, Scor."

* * *

They played and played and played for as long as they could, until they were playing tag. As Scor chased Rose, he collapsed to his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Wait," he gasped. "Rose."

Rose spun around to find her friend on the ground, panting and struggling for each breath. Through each pant, he managed, "You're...really...fast."

She grinned, sheepish. "Sorry. I know."

They waited for him to catch his breath, but before they could start playing again, he said, "I'm kinda hungry. Do you have anything to eat?"

Rose shook her head. "No, Mummy says we're leaving at lunch." At the disappointed look on Scor's face, Rose felt a rush of guilt. "But… You could come with us, if you want."

"No…" answered Scor, turning down the invite.

"Why not?"

His eyes glistened. "I'm supposed to stay here until… Until later."

"Oh." She frowned. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

His face lit up. "Yes!"

"Then I'll—I'll bring some food then!"

Scor nodded furiously. "Thank you!"

* * *

The next day, Rose begged her mum to go to the park again; as it was a Sunday, she relented, although Hugo stayed at home with Daddy.

She had stolen a couple sandwiches for Scor, just in case he was hungry. When they met up at the playground, Scor devoured the sandwiches first, eating them in seconds. Having barely finished, he licked his fingers. "Do you have more?"

Rose was shocked by his incredible appetite. "You just had two!"

He only shrugged in response, gnawing on his lip. "Can you bring more tomorrow?"

"But tomorrow… I have school tomorrow."

Rose watched her friend's face fall, and his disappointment cut her like a knife. "I'll see you next week," she told him, and she held out a finger. "Pinkie swear."

Scor gave her a hopeful smile and hooked his pinkie through hers.

* * *

Through the next few weeks, Rose and Scor became closer and closer, spending each Sunday and Saturday playing nonstop. Each day, Rose would steal food from her kitchen to give to him. Although she fed him as much as she could, Scor's weight never seemed to change. He was always bone-thin. She didn't understand why his parents didn't give him any food, but she didn't think it mattered. As long as Scor was happy, she was happy.

One Sunday, after Rose had gotten home from park, had eaten dinner with her family, and had already snuggled under the covers, she heard something fall in her closet with an odd _thump_.

She tiptoed towards her closet as quietly as a seven-year-old could, and she flung open the door. Two icy blue eyes stared back at her, scared and humiliated. "Scor?" she whispered.

Before she could interrogate him further, she heard her parents' door open and adult footsteps head for her room, so she shut the door and hopped back into her bed.

Shuffle, shuffle… The door creaked open. "Rosie?" It was her daddy. "You okay?"

"Yes, Daddy," she replied. "I just dropped my clock."

"Okay, sweetheart." The door closed. Shuffle, shuffle… She heard her parents' door shut, and then she jumped back out of bed.

After she pulled him out of her closet, he explained everything. How his dad left him at the park every day, how he never got anything to eat until dinnertime… Finally, he said, "My dad didn't come to the park to pick me up today. He was supposed to come at 2."

"Did he forget?" Rose asked.

Scor shook his head, and his blonde hair fell before his eyes. "No… I think something bad happened to him."

Rose responded with a tiny "oh" in the back of her throat.

"I didn't know when he would come back, so I…" He gulped. "I followed you home."

"And hid in my closet?"

His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I just didn't have anywhere else to go."

"It's okay." Rose grabbed his hand. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?"

He nodded, already licking his lips. Rose grinned.

* * *

Scor hid in the Weasley's home for the rest of the week. When Rose went to elementary school, she would leave Scorpius a large supply of food to last him until she got back. She refused playdates with her school friends and stayed cooped up in her room so much that her mummy asked if she was feeling ill.

When Saturday finally came and the Weasley family, she instructed Scorpius to leave the house a few minutes after they left so that her parents wouldn't know he was in the house. He showed up at the park, red-faced and beaming, but not at her. At the opposite side of the park stood a man with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, the spitting image of Scor. Rose ran to the slide and hid under it, watching the interaction between the two.

The man, who she guessed was Scor's daddy, dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Scor ran directly into them. "Daddy!" he squealed.

The hug alone must have lasted a few minutes, with both of them crying. The man demanded to know where he'd been, and Scor explained he'd hid at his friend's house when no one came for him. "Where were you, Daddy?" Scor asked, hiccuping.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo," he said, ruffling Scor's hair. "It won't happen again, I promise. Daddy just… Daddy met some people who weren't very nice."

It was then that Rose saw the bruises on the man's face, his pale skin into a mottled mixture of purple and red. Not only was his face injured, but his arm as well, for it was wrapped in a thick white cast from his upper arm all the way to his fingers. Rose knew it was called a cast, and that Muggles used them when they had broken a bone instead of healing it with magic. Rose wondered, briefly, if Scor's daddy was a Muggle.

"You're bleeding…" Scor touched his daddy's bruised face. "Did the bad people hurt you again?"

He nodded, and then the two were hugging again, embracing like they hadn't seen each other in years. "I won't leave you again, kiddo."

Not long after, the two left, Scor happier than ever in his father's care. How he could be so happy when his daddy didn't feed him? And forgot him at the park? Rose was confused, but she eventually forgot about her confusion when Scor and Rose went back to their normal activities on Saturdays and Sundays, playing and eating nonstop.

Although Scor seemed to get less healthy as time went on, beginning to cough and wheeze while they played, he did seem entirely much happier than he had been when hidden away in Rose's house. They spent most Saturdays and Sundays together, having the time of their lives. Rose had never found a friend as true as Scor.

As winter neared, Rose's mummy was hesitant to let her go to the park all the time because it was so cold, but Rose was persistent, becoming visibly upset. "No, no, I have to go!"

"Sweetheart, we can do something else that's fun! Something inside."

"No, the park, the park!"

Eventually, Mummy relented, so Rose raced back to the park the following Saturday and hugged Scorpius with all her might.

He winced. "Ow, Rose," he whined. "Don't hug so hard."

"Oh! Sorry." Rose let him go, and Scor coughed, a terrible, wet sound. "Are you okay?"

"Just a cold." He shrugged. "I'll get better."

Rose and Hugo played as much as they could, building a snowman, but Scor seemed reluctant to join in. He mostly sat on the swings, coughing a little and shivering.

 _Shivering_. Scor didn't have a winter coat like she did. That must be why he didn't want to play. "Where's your coat?" she asked, helping Hugo onto the swing next to him. "And your gloves?"

He shrugged, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

"Did you leave them at home?"

Scor didn't answer for a second, but then he nodded slowly.

"Oh." She scrunched up her face in thought. "Well, you can have my coat for now, if you want. I'm too hot."

Scor's smile was usually too bright to handle, but today it was dull and lopsided. He coughed again. "Thanks," he said, taking it from her. The red coat was actually too big for Scor, but he took advantage of its size by burying his hands in the sleeves and burrowing deep into the coat. Scor didn't really look like a kid, Rose noticed. He looked a little like her grandpa: weary deep into his bones.

When Mummy called Rose and Hugo back to her, Rose told her that she'd lost her coat.

* * *

The next day, Scor didn't show up to play. Rose and Hugo played in the snow with their mummy, making snow angels and throwing snowballs, but it wasn't the same without Scor. Rose hoped he was getting some cold-relieving potion, like the purple, smelly stuff that Mummy gave her.

But he wasn't there when she raced to the park after school on Monday, either. Daddy was mad she'd gone to the park without his permission, but she didn't care. She was too worried about Scor. The next Saturday… Still no Scor. And Sunday, too. It took another week of Scor's absence before Rose knocked on her parents' door on Sunday morning, burst into tears, and told them everything.

Rose watched her mummy go from soft, loving mother to fierce, rigid deputy head of Magical Law Enforcement within seconds.

"Scor," Mummy repeated, saying Rose's friend's name as though it was a curse instead of a blessing. "Scorpius Malfoy." She turned to Daddy. "Draco Malfoy's son."

Daddy's whole body shifted, tensing. His gaze darkened. "That bastard."

"Ron," she said, holding Rose as closely as Scor's daddy had held him. "Get Harry on the phone. Now."

* * *

They spent the entire day trying to track down Scor and his dad, and Rose just hoped they were okay. She didn't understand why her parents gritted their teeth every time they said the word "Malfoy" or why they seemed to be so angry towards Scor's dad.

Her parents spent four hours calling people, Apparating in and out of the house, and using the Floo network before they knocked on Rose's door and sat on her bed. "Rosie," said her daddy. "We're trying to find your friend, but you have to help us." He bit his lip, just like Rose often did. "Can you think of anything your friend said a lot? Maybe a nickname he called someone?"

"Why?"

"Well, sweetheart," answered her mummy. "We're trying to put a Taboo down so we can find him. If Scorpius or his father says one special thing, and we know what it is, then we can find him. We already tried Scorpius' name, but it didn't work. Can you think of something?"

Rose immediately knew what would bring them to her friend. "Will you let me come with you? To find him?"

Mummy and Daddy exchanged pained looks. "Rosie, it's dangerou—" began her daddy.

"Please? I just wanna know Scor's okay."

After a whispered conversation between her parents, her mummy relented. "Fine, but you have to listen to us, okay? If we tell you to run, you run, understand?"

Rose nodded. "Okay, Mummy. Er… His dad calls him Scor, not Scorpius. I think that might work."

Ron kissed Rose's forehead. "Thanks, sweetheart. We'll tell you if we find anything."

Not an hour later did Rose's Uncle Harry Apparate to her house with two Aurors at his sides and the news. "We've got a match, and we think it's him," he announced. "Let's go."

Rose ran into the kitchen, grabbing her mummy's arm. "I'm coming!" she declared, and she only got a grim nod in return.

With a crack, they were gone, and then they were in front of an abandoned house. Rose didn't know where they were, but Mummy took her hand and hissed, "Stay close to me, sweetheart."

In his plum-colored robes, Uncle Harry led the charge, wand out. As they entered the house, Hermione pulled Rose aside into a separate room and told her to stay, so she would be safe. However, Rose Weasley had never been that good at listening to directions, so she followed the Aurors into the room.

Scor's daddy sat in the corner of the room, surrounded by scattered pieces of clothing, shoes, and food wrappers. He cradled Scor in his arms like a baby, rocking him back and forth and singing softly. " _Close your eyes, the day is done…"_ He didn't stop singing even as the Aurors entered the room, only clutching Scor to him tighter as they approached. " _Hello, moon; goodbye, sun…"_ While Rose knew Scor had always been thin, Scor's daddy, Draco Malfoy, was a skeleton of a man; he was skin hanging on brittle bones. " _Count the owls as they fly on by…"_

And Scor…

He looked like a doll, tiny and thin, his limbs hanging limp at his sides; his skin was a sickly green color, smattered with scarlet spots and coated in a sheen of sweat. " _No more nightmares, only dreams…"_

"Draco," Uncle Harry said, warningly, and he conjured masks for each of his Aurors that covered their mouths and noses. "Don't. Move."

Draco Malfoy didn't take his eyes off of his son, but he began to cry instead of singing, his voice cracking. "Don't take him from me," he sobbed. "You can't, you can't! Please, please, you _can't take him!_ "

Watching the Aurors remove Scor from his daddy's arms was the worst thing Rose had ever seen. He began to scream: "No, please, no, _no!"_ Still crying hysterically, he tried to fight them off with his bony fists, pummeling weakly at the Aurors, and they pried his arms from the little boy in seconds. "Please, you can't, don't take him, _please_!" He started to scream louder, the sound he made like the keening of a grieving mother, and then Rose ran from the room.

* * *

Mummy told her that Scor was still alive, but just barely. Combining the malnutrition, the cold weather, and the dragon pox, Scor was hanging on by a thread in the intensive care ward of Magical Maladies ward of St. Mungo's.

Mr. Malfoy was arrested for child neglect and placed in a temporary holding cell near the Ministry of Magic while he awaited his trial.

When her parents and Uncle Harry Apparated away to someplace "concerning the Malfoy case," Rose snuck into the fireplace as her grandma slept, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and shouted the place she'd heard her parents were visiting. She had to know what had happened to Scor.

Instead of finding Scor, however, she found her parents congregating outside of a jail cell that held Mr. Malfoy. "Draco," said Mummy, her voice strained. "How could you do something like this? To your own son?"

"You have to let me see him," croaked Mr. Malfoy, hidden from Rose's view. "I have to see him."

"Scorpius is doing well," Uncle Harry told him, slipping a picture through the bars. Mr. Malfoy took it from him, holding it so gingerly it was like he was holding Scor himself. "Don't worry about him."

"Worry about yourself," snapped Daddy. "It's your fault your son's in such a state. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking only _of_ him," he answered. Rose shuffled sideways, hiding in the corner so she could see Scor's daddy. "I had no other choice."

"No choice?" Her daddy snorted. "No other choice than to starve your kid?"

Suddenly, Mr. Malfoy was standing, dangerously close to Rose's daddy. His voice as quiet, almost deadly. "You have no idea," he began, "what it's been like for me. I've been doing my best for Scor. I'm trying to keep him _alive_."

Mummy's face scrunched into a frown. "How so?"

Mr. Malfoy sighed, falling back into his chair. "I was a Death Eater," he explained. "Do you know what happened to the Death Eaters after the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"They went to prison," snarled Daddy, "like you should be."

His glare was like molten lava. "They either died, went to Azkaban, or were stripped of everything they had, like me. All our money, all our possessions… Nothing but the clothes on our backs." He sighed again, and his exhaustion was blatantly clear, written all over his face and body. "I married Astoria Greengrass a couple years after the battle, and then we had Scorpius. But once she came home beaten bloody by someone who hated her for marrying a Death Eater, she kicked me out of the house." His angry stare fell on Rose, whose face was peeking from the doorframe. "Scor, too. She told us the Malfoy family wasn't worth saving, so we went on the streets. I tried to find a job, but no one wants to employ a former Death Eater with this shit on his arm." Mr. Malfoy yanked up his sleeve to reveal a dark tattoo. "Most of the Death Eaters in my situation went into some dark stuff, horrible professions, but I couldn't." His hands were shaking now. "Do you know what they do to kids in places like that?"

Mummy was grasping Daddy's hand now. Daddy's face was pale, as though he'd seen a ghost.

Mr. Malfoy continued. "I don't know if you even care about this, but there were murders every week. Former Death Eater's faces plastered on the news, murdered in the most brutal ways imaginable. People wanted revenge after what You-Know-Who did. I was scared for Scor, and I knew being associated with me would only endanger him, so I was going to put him up for adoption, just to give him a real shot at growing up." His voice cracked. "Then Elena Blackburn happened."

Uncle Harry's intake of breath was met with grim silence. Rose knew about the Blackburn case, even though she knew she shouldn't have. A former Death Eater who had done the same thing: the wife of Alcander Selwyn. Despina Blackburn dropped her husband's name after the war, returning to her maiden name. She had a baby after the Second Wizarding War, a girl named Elena. After being unable to find employment or help due to the tattoo on her arm, she gave up her two-year-old child for Muggle adoption, hoping that would keep her far away from anyone seeking vengeance against her. Two years later, the girl was found dead in her Muggle bed from the Killing Curse, and Despina killed herself in the week that followed.

Mr. Malfoy's face shone with tears, but still he spoke. "So I kept Scor with me, on the streets. I left him at the park during the day and tried to find work. I knew he'd be safe because there were always loads of families there. I still sent Scor to school, but he walked alone to the park and stayed there until I picked him up.

"No witch or wizard would hire me, so I applied for Muggle jobs. But without proper Muggle identification or a Muggle education, my options were slim. I found some Muggle hard labor that he could do, and that barely provided enough food for one. We tried to live in Muggle shelters, 'cause there's no such thing as a Wizarding homeless shelter. But Scorpius had a couple of emotional explosions, so we had to leave before they took Scorpius away. We found that abandoned house, and we lived there for a bit, but that's when Scor got sick. I knew it was dragon pox; I'd gotten it when I was little."

"Why didn't you go to St. Mungo's?" Mummy asked. Her voice was gentler now, more like the mummy Rose knew.

"That was the first place I went." Mr. Malfoy sniffed, rubbing at his face with his sleeve. "The Head Healer there took one look at me and my boy and said, 'I lost my son to the War. It's about time you knew what that felt like.' She told the rest of the Healers that if they even gave Scor a Pain-Reducing potion, she'd fire them straight away."

Rose heard Uncle Harry curse under his breath.

"I tried the Muggle hospitals, but they couldn't do anything to help him. So I went back to the house, tried to make him as comfortable as possible… There was nothing I could do." Mr. Malfoy was sobbing now, head in his hands. "Before he passed out, he asked me to sing to him. So I did."

"And that's when we came," finished Uncle Harry, his face pensive and tight with concern.

Mr. Malfoy nodded, his face hidden by his pale fingers. As Uncle Harry turned to speak to Rose's daddy, Mr. Malfoy jumped up, startling the trio, slipping his skinny arm through the bars to fasten his hand around Uncle Harry's wrist. "Harry, _please_ ," he begged. "You have to let me see him. I have to… If this is it, I have to say goodbye."

 _Goodbye_ , Rose repeated, confused. _Why would Mr. Malfoy have to say goodbye_? Uncle Harry nodded in response. Instead of yanking it away, he held Mr. Malfoy's hand firmly in both of his. "I promise you, Draco, we'll fix this."

"Can I see him?"

Uncle Harry smiled, a broken, flightless smile that made him seem a lot older than Mr. Malfoy. "Yes. I'll make sure it happens."

As Harry pulled his hand away, Mr. Malfoy slumped back into his chair, crying softly.

* * *

After a couple weeks of treatment, Scor was finally well enough for visitors other than his daddy, and Daddy went with Rose to visit him at St. Mungo's. As soon as they entered the hospital room, both Weasleys magically sterilized and draped in sterilized hospital gear, Rose entered the room. Upon seeing her best friend lying pale and barely conscious in the hospital bed, she stopped, clutching her daddy's hand. "I don't like this," she whispered, holding on tighter than ever. "Daddy, he looks…"

"I know, Rosie," he said. "It's okay."

Since the battle of Hogwarts, the St. Mungo's staff had implemented several Muggle methods of healing to use on their patients, such as the oxygen mask currently fitted over Scor's face. Rose poked at it, and her daddy scolded her: "Leave it."

"Scor?" she whispered. His uncovered skin was dotted with dark dragon pox scars, but at least his skin had lost that terrible green tinge. "Scor, can you hear me?"

The blonde boy's eyelids fluttered, and he lethargically raised his hand to pull at the mask covering his nose and mouth. "Son," said Rose's daddy, "I wouldn't do that." He pulled Scor's hand away from the mask. "C'mon, Rosie, just tell him whatever you want to say. He'll listen."

Scor's bloodshot, blue eyes drifted to Rose's, and she felt the weight of the world suddenly drop onto her shoulders. For once, her voice was gone, stripped of her by her best friend's condition. "Oh, Scor," she said, and Rose was already crying. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I didn't know." She grasped his small hand in hers.

With surprising strength, Scor squeezed her fingers. And that moment… It meant everything. It told Rose that everything would be okay, that his daddy would be okay, and that Scor would be okay. All the fear and tension balled up in her small shoulders throughout the past few weeks faded, evaporating into the clean, St. Mungo's air.

A few weeks later, Mr. Malfoy went on trial, but with the Golden Trio behind him, his sentence was limited to community service. After the trial, Uncle Harry implemented a new system in the Ministry of Magic, one that assisted former Death Eaters as they searched for work and attempted to survive in a post-Voldemort world. Dozens of men and women in similar situations and their families from the cycle of homelessness, and Uncle Harry made Mr. Malfoy the head of it, providing a stable income for him to provide for Scor. It provided services for tattoo removal, job training, and even housed the first Wizarding homeless shelter.

Scor soon regained his health completely, and other than some dragon pox scarring, he was as good as new. His friendship with Rose had only grown stronger. Currently, Mr. Malfoy was living in the homeless shelter that he ran because he hadn't saved up enough money to buy a proper place. When Scor came home from the hospital, Rose's parents offered to host the Malfoys until they could find better housing. After all, it was almost Christmas, and it would have broken Grandma Molly's heart to see any child in a shelter on Christmas.

So when the Malfoys knocked on the Weasleys' door a week before Christmas, Rose was buzzing with excitement. Before their parents could even greet each other, she launched herself at her best friend, giving him the warmest hug she could muster. "I missed you!" she yelled, and Scor started to laugh.

"I missed you, too," he answered, hugging her back. He looked so much healthier now, with round, pink cheeks.

"I'm so happy you're finally home," said Rose. She was beaming so widely her face started to hurt.

"Home," repeated Scor. He took in the house, in all of its glory: the Christmas tree, the presents stacked beneath it, the family crowded around the kitchen table, the crackling fireplace, the used dishes in the sink, and the coats hung by the door. "I'm home."

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! Favorite and follow!_

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